


No Expectations

by TrakeniteTourist (auronlu)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, in the ever-expanding gap between Time Flight and Arc of Infinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auronlu/pseuds/TrakeniteTourist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, she had ceased to be a ward, and had simply become... an old friend. Not <i>that</i> old, of course, but no longer a child. A spirited partner in his travels, whose curiosity he was pleased to indulge. She was always learning.</p><p>He had not meant to teach her this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ~fifthx 's Your World of Text page as an improvisation, with letters appearing in realtime while readers watched the words appear. Editing was minimal and extremely difficult, so this is nearly stream-of-consciousness.

"So... is that what you expected?" Her lips brushed his collarbone lightly, tasting the sheen of sweat.

"I assure you," he said, the slightest squeak in his voice making her smile against his skin, "I entertained no expectation of the sort." His hands drifted cautiously over her back. She was so small. Not fragile, as the past hour had proved once and for all, but still, her warm body curled on his felt like a kitten's, no weight at all.

She cuddled closer, hands tucked around his ribs. "Then don't. And don't worry. I am quite content to call this... another adventure, Doctor. A pleasant one, for a change. I know that we may or may not travel this way again. But thank you."

Her curls were tickling his throat, but he would not ask her to move for all the worlds. Her breaths were warm against his skin. Slowing. She was tired, and he was still scolding himself for...  
           for giving in?  
                  Perhaps for expectations about the next time.

* * *

   
Her dancer's body above his own. Grey eyes wide and shining, never leaving his face, even as her cheeks flushed and she arched over him. Hair frizzled and curls a bounding mass as she rose and fell, hands roving his body or clutching tight as he rose and fell beneath her in counterpoint, lost, his hands reaching halfway around her waist. He tried not to grip too hard and leave bruises.  
There were red welts on her neck, her shoulders — had he done that? — bites: how could he ever think to set lips, let alone teeth, to that smooth soft skin?  
That moon-smile. Small breasts that disappeared under his palms, yet perfect.  
She was quiet, even in this. Small sounds. Her breath catching, fluttering, hips squeezing and letting go as the surfeit of sensation began to take hold.

She moved her hands over his and tugged. "I won't fall," she said, lacing her fingers through his and guiding them away from her body. She clung to his hands, balancing, wordless communion passing in the heat between their palms. " _Doctor..._ "

He tried to hold back. Tried to give her time. He was a Time Lord, and should be able to make this last forever. But she was warm and tight around him, and the slight hum of her mind against his...

...indistinct, like a voice heard in the next room, a light caress of fondness and affection, sheer pleasure in the moment, trust and wonder and  _too much..._  and she was losing control, and it was beautiful to watch...

She began to shudder over him with voiced sighs, no longer holding back, no longer a prim princess at all, but writhing, thrusting her hips forward and back to take everything he could give her, free of shame...

He gave a hoarse cry as he rose under her, pulling her down. His body kicked hard, driving upwards on the release, his vision blurring for a moment as he lifted her and lost himself and was suspended in all of time and space.

"Nyssa..."

She crumpled forward, shuddering as she joined him, the heated rippling cascade of her own body clutching at him and prolonging his peak.

He caught her as she collapsed, still spasming inside, warm and wet and panting and free.

Gradually coming back to herself, she was mute for a long time. He lay with head spinning and senses stunned by the palpable beat of her pulse against his where they were joined, one and two, one and two...

Before he could begin to fear that this had been a terrible, terrible mistake, she had disengaged gently, and they had fallen to lazy quiet kisses, no longer urgent, no longer curious or exploring or tentative, but just...  
two souls, one bright, one old, comfortable in each other's arms.

Until she had snuggled down with her cheek against his shoulder, hugged tightly and told him, lips against his skin, "I'm not lonely any longer."

* * *

 

He thought she had drifted off, and his own eyes certainly were closing, when a faint whisper roused him in an instant. "I wish..."

"Nyssa?" His hearts tightened. That wistful tone sounded suspiciously like expectations.

"I wish one of us were enough.  That you wouldn't be lonely either. Good night, Doctor."

"Thank you." He relaxed, pushing  aside a silent wish of his own and brushing her forehead with a gentle kiss. "But I have seldom been alone, and I have been rather fortunate in my friends. Sleep well, Nyssa."

So now she was here, this child of a lost world who seemed to know her place in the universe. He had heard her say on more than one occasion, to stranger's queries, that her place "for now" was at his side. She understood, as few of his other companions seemed to realize, that this was only a... temporary state of grace. But she was not afraid of that.

Not afraid to love, to explore, to give herself to him for just a while, even if it was only a fleeting conjunction in time before their orbits diverged.

She was not afraid of time.


End file.
